


Lie down with dogs

by Experimental



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Animagus, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Lily To The Rescue, M/M, Marauders' Era, Mildly Dubious Consent, Prefects' Bathroom, Sex Magic, Werewolf Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-09 07:44:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6896059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Experimental/pseuds/Experimental
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which, after a drunken full moon night, Remus fears he might have turned his friend. Now he must undo the damage he caused before it's too late. That is, if he can convince Sirius to go along with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lie down with dogs

Remus should have known that something like this was bound to happen, sooner or later.

He might have guessed that something out of the ordinary had occurred when he woke the morning after the full moon, covered by Sirius's robe and nestled between tree roots, feeling well-rested. As it was, the transformation rarely left him able to sleep more than a few minutes at a time, and never so peacefully, as if he hadn't even dreamed. 

It might have been nothing to trouble himself about, if not for the sorry state he found Sirius in, when his friend showed up halfway through breakfast.

“Don't you look a bit worse for wear, Black,” said Frank Longbottom to the dark circles beneath Sirius's eyes. “Like you took both bludgers to the face.”

And Sirius had some excuse ready about pulling an all-nighter, something about Professor Binns's exam not studying for itself. An excuse Remus would not have expected their classmates to believe—seeing as Sirius rarely used “study” in a sentence that didn't also include the words “bullocks” or “when I'm dead”—if James and Peter hadn't backed him up. They never got much sleep these full moon nights either, but neither of them looked half as rotten as Sirius.

Then Remus noticed how much care Sirius took when he sat down next to him, and he understood. The wince Sirius was quick to cover with a laugh might have escaped the others' attention, but not his.

Thankfully, Sirius was still stuffing his face when everyone else got up to go to first class, and Remus didn't need to grasp for some excuse for them to talk privately.

“What happened last night?” he hissed while Sirius disappeared one last muffin.

“You don't remember? I thought your memory was pretty solid during transformation.”

“Usually it is, but for some reason a big chunk of last night is a blur.” Or perhaps he had deliberately shut it from his own mind. His stomach turned to even think of what might have happened, but he knew he had to face it. “Did I—did we—”

The confirmation was written all over Sirius's face. And rather smugly, too, now that there was no one in front of whom to hide it.

Remus muttered a curse under his breath, running a shaky hand through his hair.

He wasn't sure how Sirius could be so cavalier about it. “Now, it's nothing to get yourself worked up over,” he said with a warm smile and hand on Remus's shoulder. “It's not like we were blushing virgins or anything.”

“But I wasn't myself, and you were—” _That_ was when it fully sank in: “Sirius, don't tell me you were—”

“Padfoot? Well, what else would I be? If I'd been human, you would have torn me limb from limb as soon as look at me. As it was, I think I prefer you when it's _not_ your, shall we say, time of the month, you're quite a bit more, well, _considerate_ when you're human—”

“I _forced_ myself on you?” This kept getting worse and worse. The way Sirius told it, and the way Remus imagined it, he didn't know how his friend could even face him this morning. It was bad enough to think he had buggered a dog—even if said dog was only just an animagus—but quite another to know he had hurt Sirius.

Remus had thought he was finally turning a corner regarding the guilt he felt for having this condition, forcing the dealing with it on his friends. Even that guilt paled in comparison to this. And knowing nothing he could say could make up for it, just blather uselessly, “I can't remember that at all! God, Sirius, you must hate me for what I did to you. I can't believe you were sitting here in front of everyone like nothing happened, let alone still _talking_ to me after—”

“It's okay!” Sirius gave his shoulder a little shake and a squeeze, trying so hard to make Remus feel better that he actually felt like crying. “Honestly, Moony, don't worry about it. It's not like I didn't have a choice in the matter. I'll admit, you got the jump on me, scared me half to death when I realized what you were trying to do, but . . .” A shrug. “I dunno. I guess, we were having such a good time up till then, I thought I'd just go along with it, see what it would feel like. Clearly you had a load to get off, and—well, what are friends for, hm?”

Remus didn't know what else to do but apologize. And profusely. But Sirius would hear none of it.

“I said, it's _nothing_ ,” he stressed as he gingerly got up from the bench. “Forget it ever happened. Now, come on, or you'll be late for class.”

* * *

But it _wasn't_ nothing, and Remus couldn't just forget it.

Never mind that he had no actual memory of the act. (He remembered James passing around a flask of some nasty liquor before everyone's transformation, and the frolicking in the forest that ensued, but that was around the time things began to go a bit dream-like and blurry.) The fact that Sirius wanted to put it behind them was telling enough. Remus had to face the truth that his friend had lied to him to ease his conscience. Because once Remus learned of his role in the affair he would find it impossible to forgive himself.

Not to mention how distasteful the whole thing must have been to Sirius. True, since the two had decided to take their affections for each other a step further, they had been sort of going at it like animals—but in a _strictly_ metaphorical sense. It was no wonder Sirius wanted to forget it. Animagi walked a thin line between the norms and taboos as it was. And even though he was still Sirius under that fur, what they had done most certainly fell on the side of taboo.

And no matter how he professed to love Remus no matter what form he took; no matter how ardently he proved that to Remus when they were both themselves and human; no matter how brave a face Sirius put on it, being buggered by a werewolf, _as_ a dog—hell, as _anything,_ was sure to leave deeper scars that could not simply be forgotten.

Which made asking for help that much more difficult.

But also that much more essential.

Lily looked up from the issue of the medical magic journal Remus had passed over to her and said, “And you need my help with this why? It looks simple enough.”

“Because,” he said quietly, settling down beside her, “you've more skill with potions than anyone else I can think of.” Aside from Severus Snape, perhaps, but there was no way Remus could trust him with this. _If_ , somehow, it didn't get back to the faculty, he would be indebted to Snape for life.

He would be indebted to Lily just the same, but at least _she_ might let him hear the end of it. “And I'm afraid if I do it, I might mess it up. I _cannot_ mess this up.”

Maybe it was the waver he had been trying so desperately to keep out of his voice, or she made the connection herself from the material he had presented her. After all, she must have remembered last night was the full moon.

Her eyes snapped to his. “Remus, what did you do?”

Quietly, conscious of everyone who passed by them, he gave her the condensed version. Fortunately, Lily had already pieced together the truth about his condition, as well as the nature of his relationship with Sirius, some months before. As always, she caught on quickly, and filled in the gaps that he in his shame could not bring himself to voice. “You think you turned him?” she hissed.

“I—I don't know. I can't be sure until the next full moon, but by then it will be too late. This,” he said, indicating the publication, in which Lily's finger was marking the page, “is the only way I can reverse whatever damage I might have caused.”

“You're sure it will even work?”

“I have to try. I don't see what other choice I have.”

“But if this is correct, it leaves only a very short window of time.”

Remus nodded, gravely. “Can you do it?” he asked her.

And she countered, “Can _you_?”

* * *

“The prefect's bath!” Sirius whistled. “Who did I do to deserve this privilege? Oh, right. . . .”

Remus had to blush and shake his head at his friend. Knowing Sirius, he had to raise his voice just to hear it echo. Thank heavens they were alone, and that Lily had helped to arranged it with the other prefects to make the baths off limits for one night.

Of course, they still had to share it with that creepy mermaid in the stained glass window, but Remus did his best to ignore it. They couldn't be the only ones who came up here with less than pure intentions. He could only imagine the stories that window would have to tell if it were truly conscious, and was grateful it was just a hex.

“You're in a hurry,” he remarked at Sirius, who had already done away with his tie and was halfway down the buttons of his shirt.

Sirius chuckled. He said, affecting an aristocratic air that was probably all too easy for him, “It's not every day one gets to enjoy such luxury at Hogwarts, where privacy is at a premium. Well, relative privacy, but you know I don't count you as company, Moony.”

He meant it as a compliment, and it earned him a smile. But that wasn't enough.

“Well? Aren't you going to join me?” One sock in hand and the other still on his foot, Sirius sobered when he saw Remus lagging behind. “You _are_ going to join me, right? Better make the most of this before our time is up.”

 _Before time is up?_ He was referring to curfew, of course, but the choice of words hit just a little too on the mark. With an “Of course” that was perhaps too nonchalant, Remus began to undress.

As usual, he was as transparent as a ghost. “Oh, I see,” Sirius said. “This is your way of apologizing for last night, isn't it? Well, as I told you before, there's nothing to forgive.”

His hands were warm over Remus's as they nudged them aside, took over the unbuttoning of his shirt. Remus sighed: at Sirius's stubbornness, at his efficiency, at the beauty of his dark lashes against his cheek doing its best to make Remus melt. He didn't deserve it, this tenderness, not for the the awfulness of what he, Remus, had gotten them into. . . .

“Yes,” he insisted, “there is. If what happened last night even _was_ forgivable. Frankly, I don't know how you can stand to be so close to me after what I did to you.”

“So we had mad, _literal_ animal sex. So what? The world's still turning, life goes on. It's no big deal.”

Remus raised his brows. Even Sirius didn't seem to believe what he said entirely.

“It actually wasn't that bad!” But then he caved and amended: “Alright, it wasn't that great either, to be quite honest. But not for the reason you think—”

“I practically raped you, Sirius—”

“No. No, you didn't, and don't you ever think it.”

He pulled Remus to him by the waist; but when that didn't get his friend to raise his head, took Remus's face in both his hands. Cradled it. Forced Remus to meet his eyes.

And if Remus hadn't felt the prickling of tears before, he began to now, held by Sirius's stare. So full, to overflowing, with a love and kindness that someone like Remus didn't deserve.

“You said you didn't remember last night,” Sirius said, “but I do. So you have to take my word for it when I say you did nothing to me that I didn't want you to do. You didn't hurt me, alright? It was fast and hard and wild, and it was more amazing in an odd sort of way than it had any right to be—and _that's_ why it didn't sit well with me, Remus. Not because I didn't enjoy it, but because I _shouldn't_ have.

“You weren't yourself. Even if I knew you were still in there somewhere, even if I told myself it was you who wanted me and not the wolf, how could I know for sure? Did you want me because I was your Padfoot and some part of you in there recognized your best mate, or because I was just the nearest warm body? I mean, I understand I make a pretty sexy mutt—”

Remus couldn't help the laugh that burst out of him like a sob. “That's not helping.”

“What I'm trying to say is,” Sirius said through his lopsided grin, his thumb stroking Remus's ear, “I could have run away from you, let you cool down on your own, but I chose to stay and see it through. It was . . . well, more of an experiment than anything else. It satisfied my curiosity, but now that I've done it, I'm pretty sure I never want to do it again.”

“An experiment,” Remus echoed.

“That's right. So stop blaming yourself and get out of these clothes,” Sirius purred, moving on to tackle the fly of Remus's trousers. “I want you naked and wet. And then I want to have a nice hot bath.”

This was about the time that Remus normally would have kissed him deep, burying his fingers in Sirius's shaggy hair the way he loved to do. He would be rutting into the hand down the open front of his trousers, eager to be snug between Sirius's thighs.

But not tonight. All he could think was _He doesn't know, he thinks it didn't mean anything, that we can just forget about it and everything's going to be fine_ and the guilt soured Sirius's touch for him. He pulled away, frantic, as if that might somehow undo the damage of last night. He knew, of course, it wouldn't.

Sirius gaped. “But I thought—”

“I didn't bring you here just to apologize, or—or to make it up to you,” Remus cut him off, before anything more from those pouting lips could evaporate his courage. There was no getting around it. He had to say the words. “I think I may have turned you last night.”

To his surprise, Sirius laughed. “You're serious?” But his smile wavered, his laughter dying away, when Remus didn't join him in it. “A werewolf. You think you turned _me_ into a werewolf!”

“It wasn't like I meant to—”

“Yeah, but how do you know—how can you be _sure?_ ” Desperation began to edge its way in. “Is this because I let you fuck me last night?”

Remus couldn't help it. Sirius's choice of words got a bitter chuckle out of him. _Let you._ Even faced with this horrible fate, Sirius didn't want him to take the blame—the blame Remus rightly deserved.

The answer must have been clear enough when Remus didn't answer right away. “But we've done it loads of times,” Sirius said, “and I've never felt even the least bit wolfy afterwards. I don't feel any different _now,_ for that matter. I thought we were beyond worrying about this _._ We did our research, we made _sure—_ ”

“Right, we were careful. We never exchanged fluids around the time of the full moon. Don't you get it: I wasn't contagious those other times. But I was last night! Highly!”

Sirius grimaced a bit. He never cared for clinical language. Too blunt for his tastes.

But the truth was blunt. It was a cudgel. And though it took a moment, when it hit him, it was as if all the stress the night before had placed on his body caught up to him in one blow. He actually staggered, and sat down on the nearest bench.

“You mean, I'm . . . This is going to be . . .” Sirius swallowed hard. It wasn't difficult to guess what he was running through his mind. He needed no clearer example of the life he had to look forward to than Remus. “Well, at least we'll be in it together. Eh, Moony?”

Now, there was a thought. Sort of romantic, really. But Remus shook his head of it. He couldn't wish everything he went through on a monthly basis on an enemy, let alone on someone he cared about so deeply. “There _may_ be a way to stave off the infection before it has a chance to take hold, but time is of the essence.”

“When is it not?” But there was a glimmer of hope in Sirius's gaze as he looked up, and watched Remus fish something out of his pocket.

Remus held the tiny phial in his palm and just stared at it, his thumb over the stopper as if to make extra sure not a drop of the precious contents were lost. “If what I read is correct, and if we did this right,” he said as much to the phial as to Sirius, sending out a mental thanks to Lily for the assist, “this should stop the disease from spreading.”

“A potion? It's as simple as that? Well, hand it over, man!”

Sirius shot up and closed the distance between them in a heartbeat. His hand closed over Remus's, but Remus hesitated to let go.

“It's not just the potion, Sirius.”

Merlin's balls, it pained him to say it, but they were running out of time.

“In order for the infection to be successfully reversed,” Remus said, “we have to retrace our steps—er, figuratively speaking—within twenty-four hours of exposure. The potion's going to attack the contagion that's already in you, but in order for it to work we need to repeat exactly how you were exposed to it—”

“In English, Remus?”

 _Easy for you to say._ Remus sighed. “If I had bitten you last night, I would have to bite you again. In—in the same place.”

“So, we have to fuck, is what you're saying. That's not so bad.” Then: “Wait. Do I have to be the dog for this?”

Remus could all but trace the heat spreading across his cheeks. “No!” he said quickly, “no, I don't think that part matters for it to work.”

“But you said we had to recreate last night _exactly_ —”

“ 'Exactly' as in—oh, for fuck's sake—as in the precise means of entry— _into your system_ , Sirius! I'm glad you can find something to laugh at in all this, but it isn't a joke! Besides, I sincerely doubt there are special rules for animagi or else they would have written them down! You are you even when you are Padfoot, so surely it won't matter what form you take.”

And the thought of himself bent over a shaggy dog was a mental image that Remus did not want to entertain for even a moment. As much as he loved his friend in any body, there were some things even magic couldn't make more palatable.

Clearly he wasn't the only one so relieved, judging by the caliber of Sirius's sigh. “Thank heavens for that! Last night was weird enough without a repeat.”

Remus supposed he was glad one of them seemed to have no problem with what he was proposing, though even Sirius's eagerness he found just a bit too convenient to entirely believe. “You're really okay with this? After the rough go you had of it?”

“I've been treating myself all day, I hardly notice anymore. Really, Remus, you know as well as anyone last night wasn't my first turn around the quidditch pitch,” Sirius said as he stepped out of his trousers and shorts. And, Remus noticed, with none of the stiffness that had characterized his movements during morning classes. Come to think of it, Remus remembered catching a whiff of a familiar salve (his sense of smell was always a bit heightened in the days before and after the full moon) when Sirius had sat down beside him in History of Magic. “I wasn't expecting this little evening rendezvous, but I'm glad I was prepared for it.”

Remus shook his head. Leave it to Sirius to think _that_ was what he was most worried about.

“I mean,” Remus started cautiously, folding his own trousers and laying them near Sirius's pooled ones, “you remember everything that happened. Or, anyway, you remember it a lot better than I do. I thought I would have to convince you this was for your own good or something. I didn't think you'd really want me to touch you so soon after—”

“After romancing the wolf?” Sirius slid into the vast bath, jumping and cursing a bit when he realized how hot it truly was. He turned back to Remus, his arms paddling in place. “Why do you think I'm so eager to do this, man? To get last night out of my head!”

“I thought you said it wasn't that bad.”

“Well, the sex wasn't, no. But you weren't _you_ , Moony! I mean, you _were_ , obviously, but not in the ways that mattered, if I'm making any sense.”

“No, I understand.”

And Remus knew he couldn't let his guilt over what he did as a werewolf hold him back from what he knew he had to do now. Or else he would _surely_ have plenty to feel guilty over, for the rest of his life. And the rest of Sirius's.

Besides which, Sirius had extended a hand to him in invitation, an invitation that was mirrored in his eyes. Not for the first time they seemed to see straight past the scars and the bruises to a beauty that Sirius always insisted was there, though Remus always resisted believing him.

“Remus.” No “Moony” this time. No more joking around. “I want _this_ you to be the only you I can think of making love to. Alright? But I'm not getting any less horny with you standing over me sans trousers like that, or any less wolfy, for that matter, so would you please get in here already?”

That brought a smile back to Remus's lips, and he didn't fight it this time. He took Sirius's wrist and hopped down into the bath. Closing his eyes in surrender to the warmth of the water that always felt like heaven to his aching everything after a full moon night.

And the warmth of Sirius's mouth on his. The tender urgency of his tongue, teasing Remus's lips open, of the weight of his palm spooning Remus's jaw, the brush of thumb against the shell of his ear. Sirius struggled against the water and physics to bring himself closer; and when he succeeded, it was clear enough to Remus, with a gasp against that insistent mouth, just how eager Sirius was to put the night before behind them.

It stirred Remus to respond in kind, his guilt pushed toward the far edges of his mind, and a low, yearning growl rose in his throat. After all, they weren't quite so far away from the moon's influence yet. The beast within still exerted his pull, pulling at Sirius's bottom lip with the edge of his teeth.

It made Sirius back off with a chuckle. “Right. One thing at a time. Er. . . .” He raised the phial of potion in his other hand. “When am I supposed to take this, then?”

“Uh, I'm not sure.” It took Remus a moment to get his bearings back. After that kiss, he felt he'd had enough of thinking for one night, but he hadn't brought the two of them here just for fun. “The instructions weren't that specific, I'm afraid. Just within a day of exposure.”

“Which means now's probably as good a time as any.” Sirius uncorked the phial, but paused as he raised it to his lips. “This isn't going to kill me, is it?”

“No, but you might experience some severe cramping tomorrow. And vertigo. Shakes, possibly. If it works.”

“If it works!” Sirius took a deep breath, staring at the almost opaque silver liquid in the glass like it was a Bertie Bott's bean he just knew was going to turn out to be sweaty socks. “Well, good to know I've _that_ to look forward to. Though, still better than the alternative, I suppose. Bottoms up, eh, Moony?”

Sirius tilted his head back and downed the contents in one go. Not that there was much to them. The ingredients had boiled down to a concentrated little punch of roughly half a teaspoon that had left a doubtful Remus and Lily checking and rechecking that they had their initial measurements right.

Judging from Sirius's grimace, it was a foul little punch, too. Or perhaps he was just tensing for it to be. A moment later, his expression softened and he raised his brows. “Hm. Herbal. . . . Soapy. . . . Just a hint of aconite.”

“There's no aconite in it.” Remus took the phial and stopper from him, placing them on the edge of the bath. “The point isn't to _kill_ any werewolf in you, just flush it out.”

Sirius clucked his tongue at him as he draped his arms about Remus's neck. “I was joking. No need to be so _serious,_ man.” A waggle of his brow. “That's my job.”

Remus rolled his eyes at the old pun—it certainly didn't get any better with age—but any further protest was cut off by another kiss.

He had to admit his friend had been right as he detected a hint of something like coriander on Sirius's tongue, not terribly unpleasant. It would do nothing to him, of course; his condition was permanent; but it tingled on Remus's nerves like a curious little buzz, like when he drank firewhisky too quickly and could feel the burn of it prickling his lips.

The effect was intoxicating. Though not nearly as much so as Sirius's naked body pressed against his, his skin like velvet beneath the water. Remus slid his hands over Sirius's sides, down over his buttocks, determined to hold them as flush together as they could be, and was rewarded by the clenching of the fingers in his hair, Sirius's small moan against the corner of his mouth. Sirius's thighs leaped in barely contained anticipation, eager to have Remus between them. “Round two, Moony,” he breathed against Remus's cheek. “Bottoms up.”

And Remus couldn't foresee that he would have nearly as much trouble doing what must be done as he had feared going into this. His guilt would still be there tomorrow, waiting for him, with all the time in the world to contemplate what he had almost done to his dearest friend.

For now, however, it was all too easy, and he all too willing, to give in to the urgency in Sirius's grasp, and the desire in each little catch in the back of his throat that mirrored Remus's own. This time he would remember every delicious bit of it. Knowing that this time they were both in control. Each knowing without a shred of doubt that he was exactly what the other wanted.

* * *

Fortunately, the next day being a Sunday, there were no classes to get out of bed for, as neither Sirius nor Remus felt much like moving. The cramping and nausea and sensitivity to light and sound had been expected for Sirius, a sure sign the anti-werewolf potion was doing its intended job, but Remus felt as though his own immune system were fighting a bug. One he had no hope for defeating, but that didn't stop his body from breaking out in sweats and chills from the effort. That tingling on his tongue when Sirius had kissed him no longer seemed so sexy, in hindsight.

James coming in to offer them the hair of the dog that bit them and make smug comments about their cycles synching up didn't help, but at least the two of them were united in their efforts to send him off. Sirius's vow to projectile vomit on him if James came anywhere near him with that foul concoction that had started the whole mess ultimately did the trick.

“ 'M sorry, mate,” Sirius groaned from under his arm when they were alone again. “I think now I have a better idea of what you have to go through every month.”

“You think James saw what happened in the woods?” That “hair of the dog” comment had seemed a bit too suggestive to be merely coincidence.

“Him, and Peter. They _were_ there, it'd be a miracle if they missed it.”

Not to mention, Lily was also in on the secret, though Remus didn't think Sirius needed that on his conscience as well. If they knew James Potter, this wasn't something they were ever going to live down. They just had to hope that there was some decent part of him, somewhere deep down, that would rather pretend the other night had never happened. But the odds that they might have heard the last of it from James were not good.

As though reading his mind, Sirius said, “Never again, Remus.” Somehow he found the will to drag himself from his bed and over to Remus's, doubled over the whole way, before curling into Remus's side. “I learned my lesson. We stick to human from now on, no exceptions. And don't partake in any more mystery drinks with Potter, no matter how much fun he promises we'll have.”

“I'm sure _that_ goes without saying.” And Remus closed his eyes, and let Sirius's warmth and steady breathing lull him into some sorely needed sleep.


End file.
